


Noon Should Burn

by ThirdGenerationRockette



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: 3.05, Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13736721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdGenerationRockette/pseuds/ThirdGenerationRockette
Summary: They stand for a few seconds just looking at each other, his eyes roaming across her face like he hasn’t seen her in years, while she tries to guess at whether Charlie’s death has even started to sink in yet.





	Noon Should Burn

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Emily Dickinson's _If I Should Die_.

In the back of the car she tightens her hold on his hand and leans against him as she takes a deep breath. Seven weeks without his solid warmth beside her has been more difficult than she could have imagined, and she really has no idea how she coped for the five years they were apart. Somehow, bizarrely maybe, it was easier when she was embedded than it was when she returned, because while she was concentrating on simply _surviving_ there were some days when hours would pass without her thinking of him at all. When she came back, she was with him day in and day out, aching to touch him but not knowing if she ever would again. Now he's beside her as her husband and she longs to just climb into his lap and curl up, to bury her face in the crook of his neck, to breath in his scent without needing to rely on his pillow or one of his t-shirts; mostly she just wants to hold him while they cry.

His fingers move slightly and it startles her how cold his hand feels in hers, or maybe hers is cold in his, she really isn't sure. The only thing she knows with any certainty is that this isn't how she pictured this moment going. Every morning she's been waiting for the call from Rebecca telling her he was coming home, and she had thought so much about throwing her arms about him exactly as she did just moments ago, imagined how it would feel to touch him again, what they would say. Never did she think it would be blanketed by this kind of pain, that her tears of joy and relief would be waging war against those of pure sorrow.

Snapping back to the moment, she realises he hasn't said a word since they got into the car, and when she looks at him she sees his jaw steeled, his gaze set ahead of him; she knows she would deal so much better with his tears than with his detached quiet. Angry Will she can manage, but quiet Will terrifies her. As does the knowledge that everything changes from this point on, because Charlie was their lighthouse, the one who stood amongst the debris of their broken hearts and calmly guided them back together. She will always be thankful for that, just as she will always regret that his last moments of consciousness were spent yelling at her, and at Sloan, feeling like his own team were staging a mutiny and not seeing that they were all just trying so hard to follow the principles he had laid out for them three years ago. In the ambulance with him, she had closed her eyes as they were trying to save him, blocking out the sounds, and started to pray...silently, or aloud, she doesn't know, she just remembers desperately begging God to please let him survive this. The realisation that she was too late, or that no one was listening, came five minutes before reaching the hospital when one of the EMTs had touched her lightly on the arm and said he was sorry but there was nothing more they could do.

"What happened?" Will's voice, although quiet, startles her and she lifts her head to look up at him.

"There was an interview." She pauses because she doesn't know how much to say, but she sees the broken look in his eyes and she can’t hide from him. "Pruitt wanted it, none of _us_ did, but we went ahead anyway, we just did it nothing like the way he wanted us to. We thought it would be okay, that maybe we could prove a point about how it had been entirely pointless to begin with, but..."

"Did Charlie sanction it?" His voice shakes and she tries to ignore it, squeezing his hand tighter.

"He told us to do it, he said we didn't have a choice if it was what Pruitt wanted, but I..." She stops to think, the events all muddled in her brain suddenly. "Sloan ripped him apart. In the interview I mean, she obliterated him and we thought...actually, I don't know what we were thinking. Charlie was furious, with Sloan, with me. Then Pruitt turned up and told Sloan and I to pack up our offices and get the fuck out-"

"Jesus." Will exhales and she closes her eyes against the stricken expression on his face.

"That was when Charlie pulled out his trump card and told him he couldn't fire either one of us because Leona had made sure of that in the conditions of the sale." She stops, opening her eyes and feeling a fresh flood of tears as she looks at him. "I should have pushed back, I should have told Sloan we needed to just play the game, at least for a little while, but I didn't, I let her go on the air to deliberately piss off Pruit, and if hadn't, if I'd stopped her then maybe..."

"Mackenzie." He turns to face her fully and she feels the tears sliding down her cheeks, completely beyond her control.

"Charlie stepped in and he was going upstairs to talk to Pruitt, and I was going to meet with Sloan and try to unpick the whole sorry mess." She stops and looks down, away from his eyes. "And then it all happened so fast...I heard him collapse and we ran over to him, someone called 911, and-"

"You went with him, in the ambulance," he says, not questioning, because he knows it's what she would have done.

"I held his hand and I tried to tell him." Her breath catches and she suddenly feels a wave of nausea wash over her, as the realisation that Charlie really is gone hits her. "That I was sorry, but I don't know if he heard, if he knew. I prayed and prayed in the ambulance, and if I'd just- if I hadn't..."

"It wasn't your fault." He stops her, his free hand cupping her chin softly, pulling her gaze back to his.

"You weren't there, Will, and maybe if you had been…" She feels her bottom lip trembling and she knows she's seconds away from falling apart, which she absolutely will not do, not now when he needs her most. "You didn't see how he...I'm so sorry."

"No, I wasn't there but I know you." His voice is tender but firm and even as his eyes fill with tears they don't leave hers. "And I know Charlie, and he would have kicked your ass if you'd rolled over without a fight, you know that. It's why he hired you the first time, because you stood your ground, and it's why he brought your back, because you don't fucking cave in to something you know is total bullshit. Honey, this wasn't your fault."

Logically she knows she isn't responsible, knows that raised voices and fierce debate were what Charlie Skinner thrived on, and that this didn't happen because of their stupid fucking interview, but it does feel like it was the straw that broke the camel's back, and she wishes so desperately that it hadn't been _her_ straw. They had been worried about him, they'd talked more than once before Will went to jail about how Charlie seemed to be struggling with the takeover, his words not coming to him as quickly as they used to, while his temper frayed much _more_ quickly. She had missed meetings, because she was busy checking in with Rebecca, because she couldn't concentrate after sleep so limited she had started counting it in minutes rather than hours, and she wonders whether she had been so preoccupied with getting Will out of jail that she had simply missed Charlie's warning signs.

"Mrs McAvoy?" The driver's voice breaks into her thoughts as he lowers the partition, and she realises they're home.

"Yeah, sorry." She shakes her head and her eyes follow Will as he opens the car door, before she turns back to the driver. "Thank you."

*

She flicks on the light, absurdly proud suddenly that in the time he was gone, she made sure they had electricity, and walls, a working kitchen and some semblance of furniture. There’s still some way to go but they can eat real food at last and they have somewhere to sit, a sofa to curl up on. He has a nightstand for his phone too, they each do. Turning back to him, she sees his eyes flick around the kitchen but he doesn’t say anything, he just stands in the doorway watching her, still clutching the books he came out of jail with.

Walking slowly back to him, she gently prises the books from his hands and places them on the counter before taking both of his hands in hers and looking up at him, recommitting his face to her memory. Even though she has seen him every Friday, an hour a week in a dank, bare room is not the same as waking up with him in the morning, as sparring with him through the day, as watching him sleep at night when she can't seem to drift off.

“God, I missed you.” She sighs as she leans up and places a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, feeling him squeeze her fingers as she pulls back. “So much.”

“I missed you too, honey,” he says, taking one of his hands from hers and cupping her face, his thumb running gently across her cheekbone. “Every damn minute.”

They stand for a few seconds just looking at each other, his eyes roaming across her face like he hasn’t seen her in years, while she tries to guess at whether Charlie’s death has even started to sink in yet. Given that she has a couple of hours on him and it only began to feel real to her twenty minutes ago, she suspects not.

“Why don’t you go and change,” she says softly, lifting his hand from her face and kissing the backs of his fingers. “I’ll get us something to drink.”

He nods and she watches as he heads through the kitchen and down the hallway, knowing how tired he is from the slight slump in his shoulders, the heaviness in his step. Stepping into the kitchen, she instinctively reaches for the kettle because while she thinks a scotch might be a good idea at this point, all she really wants is tea. She pours a scotch for Will and isn't aware she has zoned out until she is startled suddenly by her water boiling, and she moves quickly to turn it off. Leaving his scotch on the counter, she shrugs off her jacket and throws it across one of the kitchen stools, before heading slowly towards their bedroom, toeing her shoes off en route, kicking them vaguely into a corner of the living room.

Will is sitting on the bed when she walks into the room, his eyes fixed on the hands he has clasped tightly in his lap. He hasn't even started to get changed, he's still wearing his wedding suit, shoes and all, and Mackenzie's heart breaks just a little more at the sight of him. He's her strong, handsome, brave husband and he always will be, but right now he looks like a lost little boy and she doesn't know quite what to do.

"Will." She moves to stand in front of him, her hands coming to rest softly on his shoulders, trying again when she gets no response. "Will?"

"Hmm?" He looks up at her and his eyes clear just enough for her to let out a faint sigh, and she tries desperately to smile at him. "Sorry, I just...need a minute."

"Okay." She sits down next to him, her leg pressed against his, and takes his hand, bringing their tangled fingers to rest on her thigh. "You don't have to talk to me right now, but I'm not leaving you to sit in here alone. Not a chance."

"Mackenzie..." His voice is low, steady, and if it weren't for how hard his hand was gripping hers, he would seem completely fine.

"Will, please." She sighs. "You've been alone for fifty three days, and so have I. Please don't tell me you want to be alone now. _Please_."

They sit quietly for a few minutes, her head resting against his shoulder, her fingers gently stroking his until he breaks the silence. "I think I just want to go to bed."

"Here, you should..." She stands and slides his jacket off and tosses it on the bed beside him before reaching for the top button on his shirt.

His hands grab for her, landing on her hips and she lets out a gasp as he pulls her closer. When she stumbles and falls clumsily into his lap, they both laugh and it feels for a moment like everything is normal again, like this is the reunion they were meant to have. She feels him pull her shirt from the waistband of her skirt and she twitches when his cold hand slides under the fabric, the rough tips of his fingers so familiar against her skin that she has to bite back a sudden sob. Her lips move to the side of his neck, kissing him softly, reacquainting herself with the taste of him, the smell of him, feeling the beat of his pulse under her tongue. It reminds her that he's alive at the very same second it reminds her that Charlie is gone, but something inside her tells her that they wouldn't be here, they probably wouldn't be doing this at all if it weren't for Charlie, and the crashing sadness becomes bearable for the most fleeting of seconds.

"I need to..." He frees her hair from its ponytail, dropping the band to the floor before he moves his hand to cup the back of her head, bringing her lips to his.

"Tell me what you need," she murmurs against him, breathing into the kiss as her eyes slide shut.

"This," he says, sliding his hand under her skirt and rubbing his thumb across the inside of her thigh. "You."

Climbing out of his lap, she unzips her skirt and lets it drop to the floor, as he slips his shoes off and reaches for her again, smiling slightly when she catches hold of his hand and pulls him to his feet. Her fingers deftly open his shirt and he tosses it to the floor, pulling her to him and holding her against his chest, running his hands down her back and slipping his fingers below the waistband of her underwear.

Things move almost instantly into Mackenzie throwing the remainder of her clothing to the floor to pool with his before tugging him down on top of her, needing to feel his body above her, to be completely covered by him, his skin flush against hers. She kisses him with a desperation she can’t suppress, an urgency that feels like panic, and it’s only when she feels him slide slowly inside her that things align and she can breathe again. When he buries his face in her neck, her hands instinctively claw at him, her nails scraping down the length of his back as she squirms beneath his weight, the need for release overwhelming.

Almost roughly, he moves her legs apart and pushes her knees up, sensing what she needs and knowing it’s unlikely to happen in the position she’s in. She pulls him to her and kisses him, her teeth scraping across his bottom lip, her hands grasping his hair before he moves again to nestle his face into her neck, sucking on her skin as he pushes even deeper into her. Tilting her hips just a fraction, she lets out a strangled moan and he slows down, lifting his face from her neck to look at her, his elbows braced on either side of her head.

"Harder, Billy." She breathes, her voice barely audible. "Please."

Her hands move across his shoulders, over his back, down as far as she can reach with him on top of her, pinning her to the mattress, pushing her down, making her feel secure again, anchored, for the first time in weeks. Aimlessly, her hands try to pull every part of him closer to her, her fingers fluttering frantically through his hair, down his arms, her moans becoming more desperate as the intensity of the moment threatens to drown her. When she comes, she hears him saying _I love you, I love you_ over and over and when he follows her, she hears herself telling him she missed him, she missed him so fucking much. She doesn't realise she's crying until he kisses her cheek, then her lips and she tastes the familiar salty tang of her own tears on his tongue.

He pulls out of her and she whimpers faintly, giving him a wobbly smile through her tears as he moves off her and laces his fingers through hers. She says nothing, content to simply listen to his breathing in the quiet of their bedroom, painfully aware now of how hard the silence has been without him.

Rolling towards him, she rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes.

*

Mackenzie isn't sure how long she sleeps for, and she doesn't have the energy to reach for her phone to check the time, but it's still dark so she knows it's early. Shifting slightly, she's glad to see Will still sleeping, glad of the sight of him back in bed beside her at all. For a moment she's angry that they can't properly enjoy him being home, knowing that when he wakes up he's going to be devastated all over again when he should be happy, when they should _both_ be happy. Then the anger morphs back into an emptiness, a stab of loss that steals her breath and has her reaching for him, sliding an arm across his chest as a sudden need to confirm his presence back in their bed seizes her and refuses to let go.

She manages to fall asleep again and the next time she opens her eyes, it's not quite as dark anymore and Will is awake too, lying on his side next to her, his hand running slowly across her hip.

"You're here." She sighs, reaching across to touch his face, her fingers running softly over his cheek. "You're home."

"Thank God." His eyes meet hers, and although she sees the sadness in them, she's relieved to see he looks a little more rested.

"You got some sleep?" she asks.

"Yeah." He nods, frowning as her eyes fill with tears. "Honey..."

"I just can't." She shakes her head, swallowing hard, trying to fight off the tears. "I don't...why did this have to happen now? Why did he have to die while you weren't here, and with things the way they are at work, and I...I'm sorry."

She stops and slides forward to bury her face against his chest, feeling exposed under his gaze, needing his warmth to try to drive away the shivers suddenly running through her. Her bottom lip trembles and she bites down in an effort to control it because it doesn't feel right breaking down like this when Will needs her. As much as it hurts to think about the moment Charlie collapsed, and even more so when she recalls the ambulance ride, she knows Will is hurting so much more because he _wasn't_ there. He wraps his arms around her and she feels his lips brushing the top of her head as his hands settle on her back, heavy and warm on her shoulder blades.

"Do you know what Charlie said to me on one of his visits?" His voice is low, his words muffled slightly against her hair.

"What?" she asks, so quietly she isn't even sure he hears her.

"He said 'Did I mention how fucking glad I am that you pulled your head out of your ass and finally married Mackenzie while I was still around?'" he says, his hands moving across her back.

"So am I." She lifts her head to press her lips against the side of his neck. "So glad."

"I don't know how to picture ACN without Charlie." He tightens his hold on her and she finally starts to warm up. "He's always just...been there, and I can't imagine the place without him."

"I know, I can't either." She pushes gently against his chest for him to loosen his grip slightly because she needs to see him, to look into his eyes and find some hope.

"How do we do it?" he asks, his tone level but his eyes pleading. "How do we do the news without him?"

"We do it the same way as we did it with him." She leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. "We take everything he taught us, everything we taught our team, and we just keep doing it and doing it well, making him proud. It's all we _can_ do, Billy."

He nods and she sees a flicker of something in his eyes that could be the beginnings of the hope she was seeking. Things will be different without Charlie, and it will be hard, no doubt almost unbearably so at times, but they're a team, a _family_ , and she has nothing but faith in each of them. Closing her eyes for just a second, an image fills her mind, so vivid that her eyes fill with tears again. Charlie raises a glass, his bow tie slightly crooked, his eyes twinkling in the way they always did, a proud smile spreading across his face. In her mind's eye, she returns the smile and as she watches him turn and walk away, she knows with absolute certainly that they're going to be fine, he's going to make sure of it.


End file.
